


Simple Things (That Mean the Most)

by starkanium



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Food Issues, Hacking, Homelessness, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Kid Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, breaking in - Freeform, hunger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkanium/pseuds/starkanium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't know he was breaking into The Avengers' house, honest. He didn't know that his life would change so drastically after, either, but he's glad that it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings and Freak Outs

**Author's Note:**

> The title's from Chicken Fried by Zac Brown Band. Hope you guys enjoy! I'd love to hear how you all liked it.

The boy groped the brick walls that lined the neat streets with filthy fingers. His feet shuffled at an agonizingly slow speed, his legs trembling under the weight of his body and the bags slung over his shoulders. His chocolatey brown eyes drooped in utter exhaustion, only to blink open determinedly a split second later.

Everyone that spotted him knew that he was in the wrong part of town and avoided him at all costs.

“Look at that rat!”

“I need a shower just from looking at him!”

“That poor thing. He must be sick or something.”

He ignored the disgusted murmurs that were directed at him, stumbling past the apartment complexes that looked too wealthy to break into.

His stomach rumbled miserably and he only wished that he could have a burger from the dollar menu at McDonald’s. It had been at least five days since he had last eaten, and he knew that he couldn’t go much longer without some sustenance. 

He scanned each and every building, searching for one that he could break into, only to take some food and get out of there.

Just when he was ready to give up and curl up on the pavement, he spotted a vacant-looking condominium with an electronic security lock. It was no trouble, he could easily get past that.

He hurried to the door, only falling once in the time it took to reach it, and pulled the front panel off of the key pad. He managed to rearrange some wires to unlock it, gaining a low buzz that granted access. He turned the brass knob and pushed his way into the foyer.

There were soft sounds coming from some room deep into the building that sounded much like a television. The boy noted to himself to avoid that area and continued through the right door, the one that luckily led straight to a kitchen.

He started to rummage through the cupboard directly on the left as quietly as possible. He managed to find a bag of potato chips, a loaf of bread, and some mini rice cakes. To him, it was like winning the jackpot. 

He was just about to close the wooden door when he heard the sound of a soft footstep behind him. He whirled around, swaying minutely and making his vision swim for a few solid seconds. He really, really needed to eat something. 

Before he had time to comprehend what was going on, a loud bang sounded and pain erupted in his leg. He remembered dropping to the floor and then he remembered no more.

 

When he awoke, saying he was disoriented would’ve been a huge understatement. He was lying on something soft that felt awfully like a mattress. His hands were held above his head and something sharp and cold dug painfully into his wrists. There were bright lights beating down on him, blinding him temporarily. The last thing he noticed was the heat radiating from his left thigh up to his stomach and down to his toes.

“Hey, kid,” a man’s voice called out. The boy flinched away violently, automatically ashamed of his actions. He rolled his head in the direction of the voice and squinted to make out the face of a thirty-something-year-old guy with brown hair and bright eyes.

Although there really wasn’t any resemblance between the guy and his father, for some odd amount of seconds, the boy matched the face to his father and panicked. He scooted as far away from the man as possible, only to gasp in pain and stop moving at once. The heat that was dominating his leg had turned into a horrible pain that felt like firecrackers were exploding in his bones. 

“Please, Howard, don’t hurt me. I swear I was out to get food! I couldn’t find any and I was so hungry. I’ll do better next time, honest,” he whimpered pathetically, tears slowly forming in his eyes.

“No, hey, calm down. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. You just have to calm down,” the voice rumbled soothingly. 

The boy automatically dissociated the voice from his father and settled down. It took him only a few more moments to realize that this must’ve been the guy that discovered him breaking into his home. He looked very familiar.

“I- I’m so sorry, sir. I was… I must’ve just gone in the, uh, the wrong house or something. I swear I thought it was mine!” He just hoped that the lie didn’t sound as horrible to the guy as it did to him.

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. What’s your name?”

He considered lying, but he knew anything that came out of his mouth would sound like a blatant lie.

“Tony. My name’s Tony.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Clint,” the guy replied.

That’s when it hit Tony. That was Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. He was part of the Avengers that were all over the television that Tony sometimes watched through store windows.

“You’re Hawkeye,” Tony all but whispered, gaping idiotically. 

“That’s right,” he answered unnecessarily, “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Tony felt his eyes start to drift shut. He knew he was fading fast and he couldn’t quite place why. Oh, right, he was extremely hungry and his energy was drained fast. Right? He didn’t know; his thoughts were too scattered to think.

“I really am sorry,” Tony murmured before passing out once again.

 

“Did he wake up?” Steve asked as soon as the bedroom door clicked shut behind Clint.

“Yeah, for about five seconds. All I got out of him was that his name was Tony and he was fifteen. And that he’s terrified of some guy named Howard, I guess. The whole encounter was kind of weird, but he was definitely not a threat,” Clint answered truthfully.

“Well, how was the wound?” Bruce questioned.

“He seemed like he was in pain,” Clint said with a bit of remorse before glaring at Natasha. “Don’t you think shooting him was a little excessive?”

“I already told you,” Natasha began, “from the back he looked like he could’ve been thirty! If he didn’t have his hood up like that, I might’ve withheld. Besides, he startled me.”

“Yes, because that’s an awesome reason for shooting a minor, Tash.” 

“Friends, we must cease the arguing. We have larger matters at hand. What is in the past is in the past and we must try to fix the problems rather than fight over what should have happened in its stead.”

“Thor’s right. We have to decide on what to do with Tony,” Bruce agreed, nodding his head.

“Right, you’re right. He did come in here to steal food, am I right?” 

“Right,” Natasha answered.

“Then let’s make sure that he has food. He’s skinnier than a wet cat and I can’t stand to see a kid like that,” Clint said. 

Everyone seemed to agree before setting to work to make a buffet for Tony when he next awoke. 

 

The first thing Tony saw when he woke up was a package of Mint Oreos and a glass of milk sitting on the nightstand. He reached for the package hungrily, almost knocking over the milk in his haste. That’s when he noticed the inflamed marks on his wrists, reminding him of Hawkeye and the cuffs that must’ve held him to the bed.

As if on cue, his wrists and leg started throbbing in unison, although the pain in his leg was much more overwhelming. He groaned and gingerly laid back on the bed, pushing the comforter strewn over his lap off of him, careful not to jar the injured appendage. He noted that he was wearing a pair of basketball shorts that certainly were not his before he pulled the leg up a little to reveal a bandage wrapped around his thigh. 

That’s when he remembered the loud bang that sounded before he passed out the first time. He must’ve been shot. He groaned once again, knowing that Howard was literally going to kill him when Tony returned home. He’d be going back, barely able to walk and without food. He was dead.

“You just gonna keep moaning or are you gonna eat those Oreos? ‘Cause I’ll eat ‘em if you don’t want ‘em.”

Tony whipped his head around, black splotches forming in his eyesight. When he regained his vision, he recognized Hawkeye sitting in an armchair beside the bed he was lying on.

“Why are you being nice to me after I broke into your home?” Tony questioned suspiciously.

“Are you planning on harming me or the rest of the Avengers?”

“The rest of the Avengers?” Tony exclaimed. Were they all living in the building too?

“I’ll explain later. Yes or no?”

“No.”

“Are you going to attempt to steal from us again?”

There was a few seconds of hesitance before he muttered a quiet and miserable no.

“Good. That’s why we decided to go easy on you. You’re obviously just doing what you have to do, even if you’re doing that illegally. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“I promise I won’t. And I’m really sorry.”

Just then, Tony’s stomach growled painfully and he held his hand to it and grimaced.

He still was really hungry. Nothing had changed.

“Go ahead and eat the Oreos. We’ll get you something more substantial after you rest a little more and then we’re going to talk. You’ve yet to meet the Avengers yet and I peg you as a prankster. We can figure something out to do later. Eat those Oreos and then rest. I’ll be back to check up on you soon.”

And with that, Clint stood and strode from the room, not looking back once. As soon as the door snapped shut, Tony dove for the package and started munching them down with a ridiculous amount of speed. They were the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten in his entire life.

 

“Tony?” a new voice called into the room before the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, muscular guy with blonde hair and blue eyes. It only took Tony a second and a half to be out of the bed and up against the wall, the pain of his leg be damned.

“No, no, no, no,” Tony ranted under his breath, the mantra never ending.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And wasn’t that great? Captain America, the Captain America was standing across the room from him in all of his righteous glory looking honest to God concerned about Tony’s well being.

“Don’t fucking pretend that you care about me!” he shouted without thinking about it. 

He immediately regretted his words for two reasons. The first was that the Captain looked like he was ready to cry, his brows furrowing and the corners of his lips turning down minutely. The second reason being that he had no idea what Tony was talking about. 

He didn’t know that Howard lost all his money searching for Captain America then being forced to stop after his home and money was gone. He didn’t know that Howard beat his son and wife in the frustration of being homeless. He didn’t know that Tony had to venture out in the blistering cold every day to beg for food and money to support his family. He didn’t know. 

“I- I’m sorry. I should just get out of here. You guys have really outdone yourselves and I’ve done nothing but disturb you. Thanks for everything, though.”

Tony brushed past Steve in the doorway, limping the entire way. He stubbornly ignored the shocked look that settled on the Cap's face and continued down the hall. His injured leg trembled unbearably, barely able to hold his weight, but he pressed on. He didn’t realize that he was biting his lip to keep from crying out until his mouth filled with a coppery taste.

It didn’t take long for Tony to find the front door and get the hell out of there.

It didn’t take long for Tony’s leg to give out and leave him vulnerable on the streets, either.


	2. Meetings and Other Shit That Doesn't Go Down Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the kudos and comments and bookmarks! It probably doesn't seem like much to most of you, but it made me so very happy. I hope this chapter doesn't let you guys down!

Steve Rogers watched Tony stumble down the hallway, subconsciously aware of what was actually going on. His head was spinning with different possibilities on why the boy would’ve freaked out like that and not one of the solutions were good.

The slamming of the front door snapped him out of his trance. He meticulously placed one foot in front of the other to follow Tony outside. 

The gust of brisk wind that met him was anything but welcome. He instantly was shivering in his workout clothes which consisted of running shorts and a thin tee shirt. Flashes of ice and water and fire sprang to his brain, but he stubbornly pushed them aside. There was an injured boy out on the street that he needed to find. 

Steve quickly spotted a limping figure just a ways down the road and he set off after him in a quick jog. Tony was using the walls lining the sidewalk as a makeshift crutch, holding some of the weight off of his bad leg. It broke Steve’s heart just a little bit, recognizing that he was at fault for the boy running away. 

Steve was about ten yards away from the boy when his leg suddenly gave out and he collapsed to the ground with a strangled cry. Steve took a few more strides before scooping Tony into his arms.

“Tony, are you all right?” Steve asked as he pulled him into his arms. Tony struggled as if his life depended on it though, punching and kicking at places meant to inflict pain rather than damage. Even as Steve was elbowed in the nose multiple times, he held his grip tightly onto his shoulders and knees. 

“Leave me the fuck alone,” the kid spat after a minute of fighting, “I have to get home.”

“After you’re properly fed and rested, we’d be glad to take you home. You’re just going to have to deal with us for at least the next few hours, though.”

Steve started to venture back to the house, Tony’s ragged breathing the only sound on the quiet streets. 

The team met the pair at the door, their panicked expressions giving away just how worried they were.

“What the hell happened?” hissed Clint, “We leave Cap alone for two minutes with the kid and he bolts!”

“Clint,” Bruce soothed, “Please calm down. There’s probably a reasonable explanation for all of this.”

The team all pointedly turned and settled their gaze upon Steve and Tony, expectant. 

Steve stuttered for a long moment before he was able to let out a weak, “no, not really.”

“How about we bring this inside and discuss everything?” Natasha suggested, being the voice of reason like always.

They made their way through the halls that led to a room that Tony hadn’t seen before. It had a high ceiling and large couches and a fireplace that looked and felt so _homely_. It sent a pang of jealousy through his chest before he pushed the feeling away and focused on what the team was talking about. 

“Shall we start with introductions?” Thor recommended, making eye contact with Tony, clearly asking his opinion.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Tony grunted.

He was still a little bitter and well, quite frankly, _terrified_ from his encounter with Steve. If the Avengers figured out that Howard Stark was Tony’s father, things would go to hell in a handbasket in a matter of seconds. They’d know that he was dirt poor and lived on the streets, if they didn’t already know that from the tattered and worn hoodie he still wore. Speaking of, he’d have to ask them where his pants and bags went…

“Very well. I am Thor Odinson,” Thor began, only to be cut off by Clint.

“This could be fun and all but I think we should speed up the process a bit. That’s Thor and he gets really pissy if you steal his poptarts. That terrifying lady over there is Natasha,” he said before dodging a flying pillow thrown by Natasha, “and she’s a scary spy that is really scary. I guess you must know Steve already, or something, but he blushes at anything remotely sexual.” 

His comment earned a pink blush to dominate Steve’s neck and cheeks that pulled a snicker from Tony’s mouth. At the glare the Captain sent him, he hunkered back into the couch and hunched his shoulders before he mentally told himself he was being ridiculous. Steve was nothing like his father, so why did he keep getting so scared when he was around the man? Oh yeah, because he was always told he’d never be as good as Captain Rogers and that he was a disgrace. 

“This here guy,” Clint started, slinging an arm over a man with dark, curly hair’s shoulders, “Is Brucey-Bear. And the bear part isn’t really an exaggeration because he has a Hyde to his Jekyll that can maybe look like a green bear if you squint really hard.”

Normally, Tony would’ve been utterly fascinated by a man having an alter ego that was pretty much a giant, green beast, but the name Bruce triggered a part of him that was just a bit more curious.

“Bruce as in Bruce Banner?” Tony exclaimed after working it out in his head a little bit.

There were a lot of things about the Avengers that were held from the public for the safety of the team. For example, Tony knew that the guy that transformed into a rage monster with purple pants was, in fact, a certified genius, but that was all. There were only so many geniuses in the world and even fewer named Bruce, and Tony could easily put two and two together. Especially when it came to Bruce Banner. He wouldn’t call it stalking, no, just… carefully observing.

“That would be me,” Bruce said with a curt nod, his brows furrowing.

And Tony totally didn’t freak out as soon as the words rolled off his lips, really. He may have tried to get up and hug the guy, only to be pushed down by Clint. He also may have danced a little in his chair and start screaming Bruce’s name over and over. There was only a fifty percent chance that had happened, though. Okay, fine, maybe ninety-nine point nine…

“Tony, please, calm down,” Bruce told him, settling a hand on his shoulder.

“Right. Sorry about that; I just got a little excited. I mean I just realize I met Bruce Banner. _The_ Bruce Banner! How can I not freak out? Your work on Gamma Radiation is phenomenal and-” 

“Hold on,” Bruce cut in, “you’ve read my research? How is that even possible? I work on secure servers that the public doesn’t have access to.”

Tony realized that maybe he’d said too much when he noticed all the Avengers looking at him like he had three heads. He couldn’t just tell them that he hacked Howard’s old employer’s company, could he? He’d be exposing himself more than he’d like to.

“Oh, you know. That stuff leaks out onto the internet all the time. Anyway, do you guys have any food I could have?” he asked quickly, hoping that they’d let the subject drop. And they did with only slight hesitance. 

“Yes. We whipped up a few things while you were sleeping. How about we bring you back to our guest room so you can rest and we’ll bring the food in?” Natasha suggested and it only sounded like the best idea Tony’d ever heard.

Before he had any time to protest being carried, Clint scooped the boy into his arms and carried him through the halls that led to the guest room. From there, he gently placed Tony on the mattress and gave him a bottle of water and an Ibuprofen. 

“Figured you’re probably in a hell of a lot of pain. I just wanted to say sorry about that. The wound was a clean through and through, though, so it should heal up in a few weeks as long as you clean it properly and stay off of your leg for a little while.”

“It’s okay, I deserve it after breaking into your house, anyway. I’m also sorry about that.”

Clint smiled and shrugged, raising his hand to brush it through his hair. Tony was ashamed to say that he flinched away from it, expecting some sort of punishment. The look that the marksman sent him proved that Clint noticed, too. Tony quickly popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down with some water to stubbornly avoid Clint’s gaze. After a minute or two, the man exited the room without so much as a single word.

 

“I think we have quite a few things to discuss,” Clint declared in a serious tone that never really accompanied his voice as he entered the kitchen.

“You think,” Natasha snorted from one side of the kitchen. 

Clint rolled his eyes but plowed on. “First of all, I want to know why the kid freaked out at Cap back there. Second, how did he get Banner’s research off of S.H.I.E.L.D. servers, because I know perfectly well that it’s not just floating around on the internet. And third, why does he flinch away at any sudden movements? None of it adds up here.”

The team all sat in silence for a few moments before Thor cleared his throat and spoke up.

“I know that this may seem a small deal improbable, but what if the child was a spy, such as Lady Natasha was?”

Clint glanced towards Natasha to gauge her reaction, knowing that Thor’s comment could have brought up bad memories of the Red Room. He couldn’t say he was too surprised when he looked up but saw no one there. He told the team that he’d be back before jogging off in search of Natasha.

“Well, I guess it’s just up to us three,” Steve said, “Do you think we should contact Fury and tell him the situation? It’s better safe than sorry, don’t you think?”

“I guess so. It can’t just be a coincidence that he breaks in and ends up with my secure research, can it?”

“Nay. It is very suspicious to me.”

“Okay. I’ll go get my phone.”

 

Clint found Natasha in her room. 

“Tasha?” he whispered when he cracked her door open, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice steely as ever.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no.”

He took it as a clear dismissal, but rather than leaving the room, he went and settled on the bed beside her wordlessly. He knew that sometimes she just needed another friendly presence.

“Do you believe that this Tony kid is a spy?” he asked her after what had to be twenty minutes.

“Not one bit,” she answered simply.

“Me neither.”

They sat in the dark on Natasha’s bed for the remainder of the night, not bothering to check up on what anyone else was doing.

 

“Are you trying to tell me that you have a potential spy stationed in your guest room?” Fury snarled angrily over the video link, a vein popping on his shiny forehead.

A self-conscious blush crept up Cap’s face, but he held his voice steady as he grunted out a sharp, “yes.”

“And what are you planning on doing with the child?” 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted us to take action or to just back off and let S.H.I.E.L.D. handle it.”

“You tell him that he needs to leave right now, and you get someone to follow him. Report back in an hour.” With that, the video feed cut out and Steve puffed out a breath.

“How, exactly, are we going to kick out an injured kid that most likely is just a civilian?” Bruce inquired as soon as Fury hung up.

“I don’t really know but I guess we’ll find a way.”

 

_The sound of his fists connecting with Tony’s sides reverberated around the alley, making Tony feel sick to his stomach. His punches started off slow and somewhat soft and becoming faster and harder each second. Tony bit down on his lip to keep from crying out, knowing that the second he did, the punishment would be so severe that he couldn’t walk for the rest of the night._

Tony shot up in his with a scream stuck deep in his throat. It took him several moments to realize that someone was knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Tony called out hoarsely.

“Tony? You need to leave, now. You’re not safe here,” Steve told him urgently as the door swung open. 

He tried not to look to disappointed at being kicked out. The only thing he’d accomplished from his trip was a package of Oreos and a gunshot to the thigh. He was still starving and they’d never brought him the buffet they’d promised.

“Okay, yeah, that’s cool. I’ll just be getting home then, anyway. I meant to leave earlier and my parents should be expecting me. Besides, I was overstaying my welcome. I shouldn’t have even been welcomed in the first place really,” he rambled, “Actually-” he cut himself off as soon as he realized he was rambling. 

“Yeah, so. I’ll see you guys later maybe,” he said as he painfully pushed himself off of the bed.

Somewhere during Tony’s rant, Thor had come in the room and scooped Tony into his arms as soon as his feet had touched the ground.

“I assure you that one of us would walk you home, but it seems as though we have a problem that we must attend to. Many apologies from us. Be careful in your journey home,” the big blond informed Tony on their way through the house. 

At the end of his spiel, he had reached the front door and set the boy down on the doorstep. 

Tony shuffled down the street, throwing a weak wave over his shoulder at the god that was still standing in the doorway. What a weird day.

 

Some unknown amount of time later, Steve came barging into Natasha’s room calling for Clint.

“Clint, we need you to follow Tony home!” he hollered.

“Wait, what? Did you kick the poor kid out?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Steve said bashfully, “Fury told us to.”

“Why the hell was Fury involved? You didn’t actually think he could be a spy, did you? Do you realize how ridiculous that is?!”

Steve seemed to be considering what he’d say next when Natasha cut in.

“It is a little ridiculous, Clint, but we have to follow Fury’s orders. Just go follow the kid and come back when you can prove that he’s not a spy.”

And, well, Clint couldn’t argue with that. It couldn’t take all that long, anyway.

“Right, well, I better get going. See you guys soon.”

 

It didn’t take long for Clint to find Tony. The boy was making agonizingly slow progress, but Clint decided he couldn’t really blame him. Crippling hunger and, well, crippled legs would do that to a person. 

He managed to keep a safe distance and keep the kid from being suspicious at all. It kind of made Clint feel bad. Tony couldn’t have been much further from being a spy. If he had been, he’d be checking over his shoulder at least every once in a while, which he wasn’t doing. And he’d be in better shape. And he’d have warmer clothes because a frozen spy wouldn’t do much good. 

Suddenly, Tony careened to the side and almost fell to the pavement beneath his scuffed shoes. He just barely managed to steady himself before he shambled to the curb and sat down inelegantly. He rubbed absently at his thigh and wrapped his free arm gingerly around his torso.

It took all of Clint’s willpower to keep from rushing up to the kid and carry him home. He was obviously in distress and alone and Clint wasn’t proud to say that he knew exactly how the kid felt.

Tony took about fifteen minutes to collect himself, standing with obvious discomfort and walking with a more prominent limp this time.

There were only two or three more turns before Tony arrived at a particularly narrow alley that he peeked around the corner at. He pulled his head back behind the brick wall and sucked in a shaky breath that stuttered in his chest. He then spun on his heel and entered the alley, losing almost all of his limp in the matter of seconds.

Clint lost Tony to the shadows of the alley and he could just barely hear Tony talking to someone, so he decided to get closer to get a better look. Almost immediately, he wished he didn’t. 

He heard the end of Tony’s explanation, saying something like, “I’m really sorry. I just couldn’t get anything to bring back-”.

And then it seemed like all hell broke loose. The sound of fists hitting flesh and the grunts of a guy that sounded exactly like Tony was enough to make Clint get sick, but he stubbornly pushed down the bile. He knew he couldn’t just rush in there right away, having to assess the situation and just who and what exactly he’d be facing.

After a short moment and the sounds of only one person attacking Tony, Clint decided that he’d better get in there quickly. He rounded the corner into the alley at a run, prepared to smash whoever was hurting Tony in the fucking face. 

Except he didn’t do that, because the guy standing there, left hand fisted in the collar of Tony’s shirt, looked so awfully familiar. 

“Howard?” Clint murmured.


	3. He's alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait on this chapter! I've been really busy and I'll be pretty busy for a while, so my updates will probably take a long time. Hope you guys like it!

Clint’s first thought was that his eyes must’ve stopped working, which was actually very terrifying because he relied on his eyes for everything. So he blinked once, twice, three times, but the image never changed. And he knew his eyes were fine. 

His second thought was that the man standing there was indeed Howard Stark. Now, he may have looked a little worse for wear since the last time he saw him, but it was to be expected considering the man _had come back to life_. He had a scraggly beard that had not been there years before and his once black hair had evolved into a gray and white mass of greasy strands. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes sunken. 

Time seemed to freeze in place, the people in the alley turning into motionless figures in a twisted tableau. Howard’s eyes bored into Clint’s, his pupils blown wide and eyelids retracting into his head. A trickle of sweat trailed from his temple, down his face, and splashed on the asphalt beneath his feet. His hand was still fisted in Tony’s shirt, his right fist raised in the threat of a brutal punch. His teeth were bared and it morbidly occurred to Clint that the man looked more like a rabid dog than anything else.

Clint’s gaze flickered to Tony for a split second, taking in the way that his small stature huddled into itself in a pitiful attempt of protection. The way his shoulders slumped screamed defeat and his eyes begged for mercy made Clint’s chest clench painfully. 

The two men calculated each other, Howard’s hand tightening around Tony’s hoodie minutely. 

“We thought you were dead,” Clint told the man, careful to keep his voice indifferent.

“As you were meant to believe,” he replied, his voice steadier than Clint would have expected.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to let the kid go,” Clint said after it was clear that Howard was going to say nothing further.

“And I’m afraid that I cannot do that. Please, leave us to our private matters and we will do the same. You won’t have to see this worthless fool again.”

Clint didn’t miss the way that Tony flinched at Howard’s malign words, which sent him into a red hazed rampage that would make even the Hulk green (or, well, greener) with envy. His fists connected solidly with the guy’s skull, causing him to release the brown-haired boy from his grip.   
As soon as Tony was several steps away, Clint released all his rage, landing well-placed hits on his head and torso. 

“Stop,” a voice called, puncturing through the enraged bubble that Clint was trapped in. “Please stop; you’ll kill him!”

Clint abruptly halted his flurry of fists from descending upon Howard again. He straightened from his fighting stance and glimpsed over his shoulder at Tony. The boy was shaking like a leaf and his arms wrapped gently around himself and instantly, all the fight left Clint. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, approaching him slowly with his hands up in a soothing gesture as soon as he had determined that Howard was out cold.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Look, if you just leave now, you can probably avoid any more problems with Howard and that’s probably best for both of us. So thank you for the help, really, but you better get out of here,” Tony huffed out quietly, eyes trained on the candy wrapper laying beside his foot.

“I’m not going to leave you alone with this man,” Clint told him sternly. And he couldn’t say he was too surprised at the desperately hopeful look that the kid sent his way, nor the blatant skepticism that followed.

“Why not? It’s not like anyone cared before, so why should you?” he spat venomously. 

“First,” Clint ticked off with one finger, “that guy’s a total asshole and should be killed for ever touching a minor. Second, my employer has some… business with him that needs to be discussed immediately. What’s your relation to this prick anyway?”

Tony gnawed on his bottom lip before answering, his voice small and unsteady, “He’s my father.”

 

The door swung open and banged against the wall, the whole building shaking with the force of it. The Avengers had all appeared in the foyer within seconds, prepared to fend off whatever threat may have barged through their front door. 

“Clint?” Natasha murmured, trying to figure out the murderous expression on Clint’s face.

“We need to speak to Fury. Now,” he demanded before he stepped back outside and dragged in two bodies, both terribly familiar. 

“That’s not Howard Stark, is it?” Bruce questioned with disbelief laced in his tone.

“I wish I could say it wasn’t, but here he is.”

“But S.H.I.E.L.D. told me he was dead when I came back. How is that even possible?” Steve said.

“I honestly don’t know. He shouldn’t be alive. I saw his body with my own eyes; he’s supposed to be dead,” Clint supplied. 

“Friend Clint, why have you brought the boy back on your journey?” Thor asked, spotting Tony who had managed to remain out of the conversation.

“Get this: Howard is Tony here’s father. Or, at least that’s what he says. Who knows what’s fucking true anymore. Next thing we know, the worlds gonna combust and-”

“Clint, calm down. I’ll go call Fury and we’ll bring Howard to the helicarrier for investigation,” Natasha cut in, “Tony, do you want to go have that meal we promised earlier now?”

Tony nodded wearily, wrapping an arm around his torso and limping to her. She led him to the kitchen, leaving the others to deal with the Howard debacle by themselves. She had a much better idea.

“We made pork roast with mashed potatoes and green beans. Does that sound good to you?”

Tony started salivating at the mention of a hot meal with meat that wasn’t drowned in grease on a fast-food restaurant’s grill. He nodded his head fervently before he forced himself to stop, his headache ratcheting to near unbearable levels. Howard had really done a number on him that time. 

“So how did your mission go?” Tony asked as Natasha was preparing his meal, “It must’ve been an easy one. Didn’t take too long.”

“There wasn't actually a mission," she replied, "My team of idiots had the impression that you were a spy so they sent you off so they could follow you. Sorry for kicking you out."

“That's okay. It's not the first time I've gotten kicked out and, honestly, it wasn't even the worst excuse I've ever heard, either.”

“It still wasn't right for us to leave you out in the cold after you were injured,” she said as she slid a heaped plate in front of him.

Tony totally forgot his manners, using his filthy fingers to shovel the meat and potatoes in his mouth at once, followed closely by the green beans.

“Slow down; you’ll make yourself sick if you eat too quickly,” Natasha scolded. She handed him a fork and a knife and he blushed, taking them and trying to act like he knew how to use them. He couldn’t remember the last time he used real silverware instead of a plastic set.

He was a little over halfway through his meal when the inevitable interrogation began. 

“So, Tony, you’re Howard’s son, right?” Natasha asked, keeping eye contact with the boy.

“Yeah,” he replied hesitantly. He didn’t want to reveal too much because it would surely lead to a horrible punishment when they got back to their alley.

“Right. And how’s your home life with him? And your mother?”

“My home life’s not bad. We’re not the richest people, but we manage mostly. My mom died when I was really little, so I barely remember her.”

“Do you know the date that she died on?”

And how weird of a question was that? Tony shot her a questioning look but answered anyway.

“March fifteenth, 2002,” he responded carefully, as if it were a trick question. 

Natasha managed to keep her face blank at the boy’s words, but she recognized the date as being authentic. Unless she was still alive, that was the date that S.H.I.E.L.D. had found Howard and Maria Stark’s bodies on that date.

“Where did those bruises on your face come from? They weren’t there before you left,” Natasha abruptly inquired.

“Bruises? What bruises? I don’t have any bruises.”

“You’re a shit liar, you know that, _myshka_?”

“So I’ve been told,” he retorted playfully. 

“So where did they come from?”

“I tripped and fell on my way back.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Was it Howard?”

Tony inhaled sharply, gasping when it jarred his hurting ribs.

“No,” he managed to grunt through clenched teeth.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Where else are you hurt, _kotyonok_?” she questioned gently.

“I’m fine. Just a little sore from you _shooting me_ ,” he spat angrily.

“I’m just trying to help you. No need to snap.”

He knew she was just trying to care for him, but it was just too much for him to handle. She was being more of a parental figure in the half hour they were in the kitchen than Howard had been Tony’s entire life. It was just hard to process and he was uncomfortable with all the attention that wasn’t violent or angry towards him. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony mumbled, “I should probably just go. I don’t know what you guys need with Howard, but I can just take him home and patch him up. Clint won’t get in trouble for beating him up, promise.”

Tony stood up from his seat at the kitchen table, the blood instantly draining from his face, leaving him pale and shaky. The pain in his torso and leg were even closer to being unbearable than earlier, and that was saying something. It was okay, though, he was strong. He could handle a beating and a gunshot wound.

“Tony?”

“I’m fine. I’ll see you around, maybe.”

He took a step and he surely would’ve fallen if he didn’t catch himself on the table with his left hand. The wooden object vibrated with the force of his touch and the glass of water that he was drinking out of only moments ago toppled over and spilling all over the floor. Tony knew that his eyes must’ve bulged out of his head.

“Natasha, I didn’t mean to, honest. I can clean it up and it’ll be like nothing happened,” Tony told her, his words stumbling over each other in the haste to escape his mouth. He glued his eyes shut in preparation of the blow he was expecting, but it never came. 

“Oh, _lapochka_ ,” Natasha whispered softly before stepping over the puddle of water and helping Tony sit back in the chair, “Don’t worry about it. Mistakes happen, and spilled water isn’t a problem at all.”

“I’m still really sorry. I promise I’ll clean it up in a few minutes.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Natasha promised as she ran a gentle hand through Tony’s grimy hair.

“‘Tasha?” Clint said as he entered the kitchen, feeling like he was intruding on an intimate moment. Never had he seen Natasha be that… nice to anyone before. “Helicarrier’s here. Fury’s sending a quinjet to pick us up now. We better get going.”

Natasha pulled her hand back, sending Tony one last tender smile. 

“You ready to go?” 

“You don’t mean to your super-secret spy ship, do you? Because I totally don’t know a thing about it.”

Clint and Natasha supported Tony to the quinjet outside, wondering just exactly how much the boy knew.

 

It had taken a little over ten minutes to lug Howard and Tony onto the quinjet and get to the helicarrier. When they arrived, Clint and Natasha brought Tony to medical to get him checked out while Steve, Thor, and Bruce delivered Howard to Fury himself.

Once Tony was cleared from medical, his cracked ribs wrapped and his thigh redressed, Clint and Natasha brought the boy to the conference room that the remaining Avengers, Fury, Coulson, and Hill were. 

As soon as the door was open, a now awake Howard had started shouting insults at Tony.

“You’re a fucking dumbass, boy! You’re a good for nothing piece of shit that everyone on the fucking earth hates!”

That was only as far as he had gotten before Thor jabbed him in the stomach, immediately halting his foul words, but it wasn’t quite quick enough. Tony’s eyes were trained on the ground, his body curling in on itself and his eyes glassy with unshed tears. Bruce excused himself from the room, looking a little green around the gills.

“You better keep your fucking mouth shut or you’ll be earning more than just a punch,” Clint snarled angrily, his threat terrifying.

“Clint, please take a seat. We’d like to get this done with as quickly as possible,” Coulson said.

Clint took a seat at the opposite side of the table from Howard, motioning for Tony to sit with him. The boy trudged his way over, meticulously avoiding the eye contact that Howard was so desperately trying to make.

“There are two ways this could go, Howard. You can tell us how and why you faked your and your wife and son’s deaths now, or you don’t and we beat it out of you. You get to choose what you want to do, but I admit that I’d enjoy the latter plenty,” Fury said, and Tony thought that must’ve been the most horrifying voice he’d ever heard.

Apparently Howard felt the same because he gulped audibly and nodded his head in what would be a cool and collected move if beads of sweat weren’t collecting on his face and his expression scared.

It took a few moments to process what Fury had said rather than focusing on his tone. For a second, it sounded like Howard had faked his death. That couldn’t possibly be right, though. His father spent all his money on the search for Captain America, right?

 

He could remember the night pretty clearly, considering how it was the day that changed his life forever. He had just gotten back from the ice cream shop with Obie, licking the mint chocolate chip ice cream from the cone like his life depended on it. Obie ate his own chocolate much slower, actually tasting it as he ate.

“See, the doctor isn’t so bad now, is it Tony?” Obie had said as they rounded the long hallway that led to the backyard. 

“Not if we get ice cream after, no,” he had answered happily, wiping the ice cream from his face with his shirt sleeve. Obie scolded him for staining the expensive material, but he didn’t really seem mad like Howard would’ve been.

The sun was setting when they finally arrived in the backyard. The trees cast long shadows over the long expanse of grass and everything had an orange tint to it in the way that only a sunset could produce.

They had just sat down on Tony’s new swing set when Howard had hurried out of the back door, yelling for Tony to get inside now and pack a bag full of clothes.

Tony was excited, thinking that they were going on vacation or something, but when they ended up in some trashy motel, he knew something was up.

“Daddy, what are we doing? And why isn’t mommy with us?” Tony had asked after sitting on a musty bed silently for twenty minutes while his dad scurried around doing who knew what.

“I wasted all my money while I was searching for Captain America. And… Tony, your mom is dead.”

Yeah, he definitely remembered that night. Tony had started crying and Howard beat him black and blue until he stopped.

 

Howard had never said anything that even hinted to him faking his and his mother’s and his own death, though, unless Tony was missing something.

“So, what’ll it be?” Fury asked in a conversational tone, as if he wasn’t threatening anyone with torture, snapping Tony out of his memories.

“I’ll- I can tell you now. I- well, I did it because I got in some trouble and I needed to get out of it. And I did. Except, Maria actually did die in that crash. I thought I would, too. It wasn’t planned, really. As to how I did it, well, that’s a more complicated matter. I can’t just explain it in a matter of seconds…”

Fury didn’t seem at all satisfied with the answer, and Tony had to admit that he wasn’t really either. He wanted to know what exactly was going on. 

“Take him to one of the interrogation rooms, please, Hill,” Fury ordered, turning on his heel and exiting the room, his leather coat flapping in the nonexistent wind.

The pretty lady whose name was apparently Hill dragged Howard out of the room with more strength than a woman should’ve possessed. 

“So…” Tony muttered when none of the Avengers made a move to get up.

“You can stay with us until everything is cleared up,” Bruce told the boy, knowing that he was probably terrified of the circumstances. 

Five pairs of surprised eyes snapped over to Bruce.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Tony said, “I’d be okay for a little on my own.”

“I’m sure you would, but we’d love to have you. Isn’t that right guys?” Bruce sent them all a look to make sure they agreed.

“Yes. We’d love to have you, Tony,” Steve said after a moment of hesitation.

“They’re right. You could come hang out with us for a while. It’d be cool,” Clint agreed.

Tony smiled and nodded, glad that he finally had someone on his side.

 

When Tony and the Avengers got back to their home, they whisked Tony straight to bed, telling him that it had been a long day and he really needed the rest. Normally, Tony would’ve argued, but he found he really _was_ tired. Besides, he had a real bed with a real mattress and he wasn’t about to give that up. 

Natasha showed the boy where some of Clint’s clothes were that he could sleep in and made sure he had everything he needed as soon as he was settled in bed. She planted a soft kiss on his forehead before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

“-Can’t believe that Howard’s alive and I really can’t believe that he’d hurt a kid like that. I was so ecstatic when I saw him and now I’m repulsed at being happy that he was alive. I can’t help but feel bad for the kid, you know? I wish he knew the man that Howard was before. The one that I knew.”

Natasha managed to catch the end of Steve’s rant to the rest of the team and she couldn’t help but agree. Every kid deserved a good childhood, even if a lot failed to receive one.

The Avengers had all just gotten comfortable, splayed across couches and chairs in the living room. The Breakfast Club’s opening credits had just began when all five of their cell phones buzzed simultaneously, signaling that there was a monster of some sort that needed to be taken care of.

“Avengers assemble,” Steve said in his no-nonsense Captain America voice.

They headed outside and were greeted with fiery skies and battle cries.

“This ‘ought to be fun,” Clint mumbled as he raced down the street, Avengers in tow.


End file.
